


The Perks of Being a Human

by relucant



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Fallen Castiel, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:06:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relucant/pseuds/relucant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Down here!" Dean yelled breathlessly, and Sam gripped the knife tighter; anything strong enough to get into the bunker and get Dean at a disadvantage was bound to be a nasty piece of work.</p><p>But when he got to the kitchen he stopped in the doorway with a start, mouth hanging open.</p><p>"Uh… Dean?"</p><p>"What?" Dean snapped, trying to maneuver the massive Douglas fir through the door. "Jesus, I swear this thing didn't look so big on the lot."</p><p>"You… bought a Christmas tree?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hate titles. I really, really hate titles.
> 
> Chapter count is a guess, but shouldn't go much beyond. 
> 
> ~~Rating may go up or down, but c'mon, there's bound to be smut at some point.~~ yeah, note the rating change. huge shock.
> 
> \--
> 
> Art by the super-talented, entirely delightful and overall goddamn gem of a human being, [feminist-fairy](http://feminist-fairy.tumblr.com), who made my fucking day and week by making this <3

"Sam!" Dean's voice echoed through the cavernous bunker. "Sam? Little help here?"

Sam shot up and instinctively grabbed his knife.

"Dean?" he called, creeping down the hallway.

"Down here!" Dean yelled breathlessly, and Sam gripped the knife tighter; anything strong enough to get into the bunker and get Dean at a disadvantage was bound to be a nasty piece of work.

But when he got to the kitchen he stopped in the doorway with a start, mouth hanging open.

"Uh… Dean?"

"What?" Dean snapped, trying to maneuver the massive Douglas fir through the door. "Jesus, I swear this thing didn't look so big on the lot."

"You… bought a Christmas tree?"

"Weren't you supposed to be the smart one?" Dean grunted. "Now will you put your Sasquatch self to use and help me over here?"

The confusion didn't leave Sam's face, but between the two of them, they brute-forced the tree through the door and stood it awkwardly against the wall. Dean stepped back and surveyed it with a look of satisfaction.

"Eh?" he said, nudging Sam, then caught the look on his face. "What? It's December!"

"Yeah, but, uh… we've never exactly… 'done' Christmas much before…"

"Uh, there was that year you spiked the eggnog with like a _gallon_ of rum," Dean reminded him.

"And we had a plastic tree with gas station ornaments and skin mag gifts," Sam pointed out. "Not exactly _Miracle on 34th Street_."

"Yeah, but it was nice," Dean said with a soft smile. "And anyway, we have a _home_ now, Sammy. And for once, things ain't that bad. You and me're both here, mostly whole. And Cas… well, he may be human now, but he's at least here, and he's walkin' and talkin'. I'm nesting, OK?"

Sam snorted, but a smile quirked at his mouth. "Apparently. Fine, so… war room or library?"

Dean's eyes lit up. "Library, I think," he announced. "Cozier." He grabbed the tree by its trunk, trying to shield his face from the needles. "Help a guy out, wouldja? And hey, grab that stand. Wanna get it set up 'fore Cas gets up and we can decorate it. Surprise him, y'know? First human Christmas? I'm in charge've the eggnog, though."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he wrapped one arm around the base of the tree. "Decorate it with what?" he said as they pushed and shoved the tree through the kitchen. "Dunno if there're enough gas stations within fifty miles to rig up this monster."

"Jesus, Sammy, what kinda Neanderthal d'you take me for?" Dean said, jerking his chin towards the table. A small pile of bright ornaments sat on one of the chairs, with a few strings of lights slung over the back and a couple packages of tinsel. "S'not much, yeah, but should be festive enough. An' we got a few more weeks 'til Christmas to pick some more shit up."

Sam kicked the stand into the corner Dean pointed to and they wrestled the tree into it, then stood back, panting.

"Not bad," Sam admitted. "So you wanna decorate it now, or wait for --?"

"Of course we're waiting for Cas," Dean said, affronted. "Decorating's half the fun."

Sam turned away, hiding a smile. "I'm sure he'll love it, Dean," he said, and the tips of Dean's ears went red.

"Who will love what?" came a grumpy voice from the top of the stairs. "Do all humans wake up so _early_?"

"It's past 11:00," Dean called with fond exasperation. "Anyway, get down here. We got a surprise for you."

Cas shuffled down the stairs, still wearing plaid pajama pants and an old band t-shirt of Dean's, and one of Sam's hoodies that threatened to drown him.

He stopped halfway down, peering at the tree. "Is -- did you plant a _tree_ in the bunker? How --?"

Sam roared with laughter, and even Dean couldn't suppress a snicker, despite the scowl on Castiel's face.

"S'a Christmas tree, Cas," he said. "It's December, so I figured…"

Cas' scowl only deepened, and Dean trailed off, visibly embarrassed. "No, it's dumb," he mumbled, rubbing his neck. "Sam thinks it's dumb, you think it's dumb, I shouldn't've…"

Sam opened his mouth to object, but Cas interrupted first. "Shouldn't it be decorated?" he asked, blinking confusedly.

Dean brightened, and Sam bit back another grin.

"Yep," he affirmed, scurrying back to the kitchen as Cas slouched into the library, rubbing his eyes.

"He seems very…" Cas said hesitantly.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, then lowered his voice. "He -- I never had any real holidays, I was, you know… too young. But he remembers. And, uh… he wants to, you know, do it for you, too."

Cas stared at him in surprise, but before he could respond Dean came clattering back in, depositing his armload of decorations on the floor next to the tree.

"OK," he announced. "The lights go on first. And then the -- I dunno, those strings of beads or whatever, they were cheap, and looked… festive." He tossed one strand to Sam and another to Cas, who caught it between his fingers, nonplussed.

Sam took pity on him as Dean dug through the pile of ornaments.

"Here," he said, draping the end of Cas' string at the top of the tree. "Just kinda wrap it around, and then I'll do the bottom half with mine."

Cas nodded, biting his lip. He gingerly worked the strand into the tree branches, walking slowly around, and Dean had just got the _hurry it up already_ expression on his face when Sam shot him a look, and he shut his mouth.

Sam took over the lower half, winding the strands down to the base. Finally he stood back, and Dean flicked on the lights.

"Wow," Sam admitted after a moment, watching the lights twinkle in the leaves.

"Right?" Dean said. He bent down and picked up a bright red ornament, then nudged the box over to Sam and Cas. "C'mon, we're gonna need more, but we can get it goin'." He reached down and tossed a silver sphere to Cas, who caught and it and turned it in his hands, uncertain.

"Like this," he said, nudging at the branches until he found a study niche to hang the ornament, then hooked it into place. 

Cas was still cradling his ornament awkwardly, so Dean stepped over.

"See?" he said, pulling on a branch. "This is strong. So you could put a heavy one on the inside," and he demonstrated, tugging on the thick branch, "or just hang this one on the outside."

Cas reached out and hung the silver ball on the end of a branch, then stepped back with something akin to awe.

"There y'go," Dean said proudly, and even Sam was downright beaming as he nestled baubles into the tree.

Finally they stepped back to admire their work. The decorations were sparse, but festive enough with the lights flickering on the shiny ornaments.

"Not bad, huh?" Dean said. "We'll hold off on the tinsel for now. And we already got an angel," he added without thinking, then mentally kicked himself as Sam shot daggers at him over Cas' head.

"Dean, you know I'm no longer an angel," Cas said slowly, not looking at him.

"Yeah, well, f'you were, you'd probably be flapping off on some shitty godly mission," Dean said as cheerfully as he could. "Rather have you here with us. Angel or not."

Cas finally turned to him, and a soft smile had replaced the confusion on his face. Dean couldn't help reciprocating the smile until Sam let out a pointed cough.

"Anyway," Dean said, blushing faintly again. "Lunch? Think we got the stuff for grilled cheese and tomato soup. Sammy, I know you're in -- sound good, Cas?"

Cas shrugged apologetically. "I've never had those things. I'm sure they're fine."

"Never _ha_ \- -- Cas, buddy, sit your ass down," Dean said, gesturing dramatically at the kitchen table.

"We could watch Christmas movies!" Sam said, his earlier hesitation melted into puppy-dog enthusiasm.

"Only if it's _Die Hard_ ," Dean called over his shoulder, opening the fridge and getting out the bread and cheese.

"Dean, that's not really a Christmas movie," Sam said, rolling his eyes and getting a can of tomato soup from a cupboard, pouring it into a pot.

Dean opened his mouth to object, but Cas spoke up.

"I don't know that I want to watch anything called _Die Hard_ right now," he said softly.

"I bet the bunker's got _It's a Wonderful Life_ somewhere," Sam suggested, and Dean turned a full-force glare on him.

"Really, Sammy?" he said, tilted his head toward Cas. "Really?"

Sam looked at him confusedly for a moment, then his eyes went wide. "Yeah, uh -- too early for that anyway," he backpedalled. "Hm… what about _A Nightmare Before Christmas_?"

Dean grinned. "Perfect! Knew that gigantor brain was good for something," he said.

"That sounds unsettling," Cas mumbled, frowning at his hands.

"No, I think you'll like it," Sam assured him. "I mean it sort of is, but in a good way."

"And if Sam and me agree you know we're onto somethin'," Dean added. He buttered the slices of bread, grimacing as it coated his fingers. "You guys like mustard? Tomato, onions?"

"Mustard and tomato for me," Sam said. He got up and crossed to the counter. "Here, I'll chop it. Cas?"

"I, uh…" Cas said, trailing off with a shrug.

"We'll just start you off basic," Dean declared. "Next time you can try douching it up like Sammy." He ignored Sam's token eye-roll, tossing two sandwiches onto the griddle, then added a layer of tomato slices and a spoonful of mustard to the third before throwing it on too.

"It's snowing," Cas said quietly, gazing out the window. Sam and Dean turned to look outside automatically, and they all watched the falling flakes in silence for a minute before a hiss from the stove startled Dean.

"Shit, if I managed to fuck up grilled cheese," he grumbled, flipping the sandwiches carefully. "Nope, we're good. Cas, y'ever seen snow? Like, as a human?"

Cas didn't answer for a few moments, still staring out. "No, not as a human," he said finally. "But I remember it. I remember many things."

"Maybe we'll go out later," Dean said, uncharacteristically gentle. "Y'know, snowmen and all that shit. Come back in for hot chocolate."

"Hey, you remember that year we were up at Bobby's in January?" Sam said, dividing the soup between the cups and putting them on the table.

"And you almost got frostbite because you were too dumb to come in from the snowball fight?" Dean replied, laughing.

"Well, _somebody_ never told me the game was _over_ ," Sam grumbled, but he was smiling.

Dean deposited the sandwiches around the table, carefully cutting each in half, then sat down with a pile of napkins. Cas poked at his experimentally.

"Wait for it to cool a little," Dean advised, but immediately picked up his own sandwich and took a bite, then dropped it with a yelp. "Shu'up," he informed them, fanning his mouth.

"And a lot of people like dipping the sandwich right into the soup," Sam added. "But try it alone first."

Cas nodded gravely, then picked up a sandwich half. He sniffed it, then took a tentative bite, and a pleased expression came across his face.

"Eh?" Dean said, raising his eyebrows. "Not bad, right?"

"Mm," Cas agreed. He took a bigger bite, then his eyes went wide as the melted cheese stuck to his lips.

Dean couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, handing Cas a napkin and getting up to fill a glass of water. "You'll get used to it," he assured him.

Cas stuck his tongue out, testing for burns, and Dean couldn't help tracking the motion for a moment before turning back to his plate.

"It should be better now," Dean told him. "Here, try like this." He dunked a corner of his sandwich in the tomato soup and took a bite, groaning.

Cas furrowed his brow. "I don't see how --"

"Just try it," Sam said. He followed suit, soup dripping down his chin.

Cas picked up his sandwich, eyeing it dubiously, but dipped a bit of it into the cup and nibbled at it. Immediately his face brightened.

"This is almost as good as cheeseburgers," he said, taking a bigger bite, and Dean grinned at him, bright and happy.

They finished their sandwiches in a rare contented silence, punctuated only by crunching and soup-slurps.

"Thank you, Dean," Cas said at last, pushing his plate away. "And you, Sam."

They waved their hands in identical gestures of dismissal.

"Glad you liked," Dean said, gathering the dishes and depositing them in the sink. "We'll wash 'em tomorrow. Let's be lazy and watch the movie." He snagged a trio of beers and tossed them around.

"Dean, it's like noon," Sam huffed, but he popped his open anyway.

"Whatever, it's Christmas."

"It's December 3rd."

Dean ignored him, grabbing a bag of ready-made popcorn, and they traipsed back into the library. Sam flopped onto the recliner and Dean and Cas settled themselves onto the old couch, the popcorn on the coffee table.

Halfway through Cas had fallen asleep, his head tipped onto Dean's side. Dean tried to gently push him upright but Cas only murmured softly, turning his face. Dean sighed and gave up, snaking his arm along the back of the couch and hitching Cas up so his temple wasn't pressed against the jut of his shoulders.

Sam was looking at them with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk on his face.

"Shut up, bitch," Dean said with a sigh.

Sam lifted his hands. "No, I, uh, I was actually just wondering. Are we gonna, y'know, do presents and shit?"

"A'course we're doin' presents!" Dean said indignantly. "What kinda Christmas d'you take this for?"

"Shut up, jerk. Dude, Cas doesn't have any money. And you know him better'n I do, but I don't think he'd appreciate us giving him money to buy presents for us."

Dean shut his mouth, considering. "I hadn't thought of that," he admitted softly, absently stroking Cas' hair, and Cas let out a small sigh in his sleep. Sam's eyebrow climbed even higher into his ridiculous hair, and Dean's glare intensified.

"Dean, are you ever gonna --?"

"Shut up," Dean reiterated, pleasantly.

Sam rolled his eyes. "What if we went separately, and just asked him what to get for each other, from him? I think he'd be more on board with that."

"Worth tryin'," Dean admitted. He looked down at the sleeping face, angelic as it ever was in its repose. "Shit, Sammy, I just wanna do somethin' nice for the guy."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam said gently. "I know you do."


	2. Chapter 2

A few days later Dean was sprawled on his bed, Sam's laptop open on his stomach.

"Dude, you better be looking for cases, not watching anime porn again," Sam said from the doorway.

Dean smirked up at him, but he flipped the laptop around. " _Game of Thrones_. Happy medium, OK? No sign of anything weird goin' on, and I need to catch up." He spun the laptop back around, his attention back on the screen. "Man, that Joffrey's a dick."

Sam rolled his eyes. "And you couldn't use your _own_ laptop to perv on Lady Margaery?"

"Hey, it's a good show!" Dean protested. "Like you don't have a crush on Natalie Dormer too. You got eyes. And no, Cas wanted to borrow mine."

"What for?"

"Dunno. Maybe he just wanted some more time with the pizza man and the babysitter."

"Gross, Dean. Anyway, seeing as you guys are busy, figured I'd go into town, do some Christmas shopping. Gonna take the Impala, 'kay?"

"Don't --"

"-- douche her up, yeah, treat her like gold, blah blah blah, I know. You need anything? And yes, dude, I'll bring you some pie."

Dean finally looked up from the screen. "You're the best little brother ever, Samantha," he said, blowing Sam a loud, sloppy kiss.

"You're foul," Sam informed him, shutting the door.

He wandered through the bunker until he found Cas on the library couch, frowning at Dean's laptop.

"Heya, Cas," Sam called, and Cas looked up, blinking.

"Oh, hello, Sam."

"Find anything interesting?"

"Many things," he replied. He didn't elaborate, and Sam chose not to push.

"I'm gonna head into town for a bit. You need anything?"

"Nothing I could buy in a store," Cas said quietly, and Sam winced.

"Right. Uh, I'm gonna do some Christmas shopping too. Anything you want me to pick up for Dean while I'm out?"

"Thank you, but no," Cas said, returning his attention to the laptop.

"OK. Just, we were gonna do the presents thing this year, so…"

"Is that not the usual tradition?" Cas said, squinting up again.

"Right. Well. Let me know if you get any ideas."

He grabbed his coat and the Impala keys, checked his pockets for phone and wallet, and wandered out, bracing himself against the cold Kansas air.

\--

It was several hours before Sam got back to the bunker, stomping snow off of his boots, laden down with an armful of packages. He kicked the door shut behind him and deposited the bags containing Dean's gifts in his own bedroom, then knocked on Dean's door, juggling the remaining packages with a grin.

"Jerkin' off, come back later!" Dean yelled from the other side.

"Jesus, Dean --" Sam said, and a burst of laughter rang through.

"I'm kidding, dude. C'mon in."

"What if it'd been Cas knocking?" Sam demanded, but he couldn't help snickering.

"You think I can't tell your massive moose footfalls from him? Guy needs to wear a friggin' bell."

Sam shook his head. "Anyway, so get this --"

"Hold up," Dean interrupted, "first things first. Did you remember the pie?"

Sam resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at his older brother.

"Yes, Dean. And I even got it from an actual bakery, not the supermarket. Blame it on the Christmas spirit."

Dean groaned, clutching his heart theatrically. "You spoil me. So, what else did you get me!" 

"I'm not _telling_ you!" Sam said indignantly.

"Then why'd you come in here with that shit-eating grin? Did you get something for Cas? Did _he_ tell you somethin' to get me?" Dean sat up, glaring at the bags in Sam's arms suspiciously, and Sam snorted.

"Calm down. And no, he didn't. I asked, but… Honestly, I'm not entirely sure he understands that he's included," Sam admitted.

Dean frowned. "I'll talk to him later, we got like three weeks 'til Christmas. And he's gotta still be overwhelmed with all this human shit. OK, huggy bear, so what's all this crap?"

Sam set the two biggest packages on the floor, then upended the rest of the bags onto Dean's bed, earning a squawk of protest.

"The hell, dude?" he grumbled, but Sam was watching him like an expectant puppy dog, so he reached out for the nearest item.

He came up with a delicate blown-glass candycane, dangling from a silver ribbon. He glanced up at Sammy, who was vibrating with glee, looking for all the world like an excited twelve-year-old.

"You got more decorations," Dean said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Yup!" Sam said, tossing a few more boxes at Dean. "Mostly cheap stuff, just a couple nicer ornaments I liked. And I thought maybe we could put a couple more strands of lights around the library, and some of these evergreens --"

"Is this a menorah?" Dean interrupted. "Dude, we aren't even Jewish."

"Uh, we're not exactly Christian either," Sam pointed out, and Dean shut his mouth.

"Touche," he said, poking through the various accoutrements.

After a pause, Sam coughed. "I, uh. I went a bit overboard, maybe?"

Dean snorted. "Jesus Christ, you think?" But before he could see the way Sam's face twisted and fell, he was lifting a silver star ornament, meant for the top of the tree. "It's perfect, Sammy. I love it. It's all perfect."

Sam's face brightened again immediately. "Guess your enthusiasm is contagious."

"So what are those?" Dean asked, gesturing at the last two packages.

Sam reached down and grabbed the first one. "This might be more evidence of excess," he admitted, handing it to Dean.

Frowning curiously, Dean wrenched it open and extricated a huge pine wreath, decorated with tiny bells and a big red bow, and he broke out into a huge grin.

"Shit yeah!" he said. "This can go on the mantle. This is awesome, Sammy, really. Gonna have to get a fuckin' stuffed reindeer or something when I go shopping to outdo this shit."

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"'Kay, so what's that then?" Dean said, pointing at the last package. He paused. "If that _is_ a stuffed reindeer, so help me…"

"Little small for that," Sam said, laughing. "No, uh. I was in the mall, and there was a sale, and I thought, uh, for Cas, from both of us…" He handed the package to Dean, and Dean slid it open, curious.

He pulled out a smallish box with a slim grey laptop on the front, then glanced up at Sam, looking confused but not annoyed.

"We already got two laptops, we really need to nerd this place up even more?"

Sam sighed, suppressing an eye-roll. "Dean, Cas _already_ feels helpless as a human. Useless. You think he likes having to come ask one of us whenever he just wants to use a _computer_?"

Dean bristled, but deflated as he thought about Sam's words.

"Shit, I never even thought about that," he admitted. "Like I mind sharing with him. But I get what you mean. He'll love it, Sam." He fiddled with the label. "We should still get him somethin' from each of us."

"Yeah, yeah, you can still give him flowers and candy," Sam said, dodging the pillow Dean threw at his head.

\--

Later in the evening, Dean was carefully flipping his burgers while Sam chopped up vegetables for a salad. Castiel sat at the kitchen table, straight-backed, still staring intently at Dean's laptop.

"So, Cas," Dean drawled, "whatcha want for Christmas, anyway?"

"Nothing, Dean," Cas said without looking up.

"Nope," Dean said. "Gonna get you somethin'. So tell me what you want, or I'm gonna get you some socks or some shit."

"I like socks," Cas mumbled, but Dean just gave him a stink-eye, and Cas huffed. "Clothes. I would like some clothes of my own. I appreciate you both lending me yours, but…"

"Clothes. We can do that. You wanna come with us, or…? I know your size, but…"

Cas drew his knees up to his chest, looking away. "I trust you, Dean."

\--

Early December slid into mid-December without warning. Sam and Dean took off for a couple days to track down a random Ruguru in Nebraska; Dean refused to let Cas come, in his newly-human state of matter, but he did set Cas up with a couple of guns in the firing range to get him jump-started on hunter-training. And a lot of instructions on how to keep himself fed.

Cas still hadn't let either of them do any Christmas shopping for him, and Dean shrugged at Sam apologetically.

"Not like _we_ care if he doesn't get us anything, but… What else'd you get him?"

"Socks," Sam announced. "Socks and gloves and a hat. With kittens and bees."

Dean burst out laughing. "How the hell did you find a winter set with kittens _and_ bees?"

"There was a store in the mall," Sam said, half proud and half sheepish. "One of those dumb booths. Said you could pick two designs to put stuff on, and they had cats and bees. Gonna get him a coat too, maybe some sweaters. Dunno his size or taste as well as you do, so figured I'd get him some basic winter stuff."

"He'll love it," Dean affirmed.

"What about you? What'd you get him?"

Dean sighed. "Nothing, yet."

"Dean --!"

"I know, Sammy," he said irritably. "I just can't figure out…"

"Dean…"

"Sam," he said warningly, but Sam just sighed.

"Dude, I know. No chick flick moments. But you're my _brother_. And Cas is our best friend -- mine, too, y'know."

Dean groaned, folding forward until his forehead knocked onto the kitchenette table.

"What d'you want from me, Sammy?" he finally said, defeated. "I know you know, that fuckin' moose brain of yours --"

"It's not my brain," Sam said with an exasperated laugh. "I grew up with you. I _know_ you. You love Cas."

Dean's head swiveled up. "I am not in love with --"

"I didn't say _in love with_ ," Sam retorted. "I mean, I think you clearly are, but that's your call. But you love him."

Dean sat quietly for a minute, his head back in the crook of his elbow, then gave a small shrug.

"He's an _angel_ , Sammy," he said. "I mean -- I know he's not now, but, Christ, I'm -- I'm _me_ , there's no way --"

"Oh my _God_ ," Sam said, rolling his eyes upwards, then he took a deep breath. "Dean, I'm your brother, so I'm never going to say this to you again, but you're the smartest person I know."

Dean's face twisted in sour disbelief, but Sam cut him off.

"No, you are. If you ever bring this up again or tell anybody else, I'll kill you in your sleep. And I mean, yeah -- you make EMF meters out of old Walkmans, and you got your GED when we were _homeless_. But it's not even that. You read people. You wanna tell me Cas looks at me like he looks at you?"

Dean opened his mouth automatically to protest, then it fell shut.

"But why didn't he ever say anything?" Dean said, and the helplessness in his voice was the only thing that kept Sam from smacking him, and he sighed.

"Dean, unless you know you as well as _I_ know you, you're as hetero as they come, dude," he said. "You've picked up enough women that I think even Cas caught on. And he's made it clear that he doesn't care about sexuality. So I think it's fair to say that if anyone's waiting for the other to make a move, it's him."

"Shit," Dean said softly, staring at his hands.

"There it is."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bring a toothbrush. Seriously. I think I need a fucking shower after writing this much fluff. Or maybe just to read Twist and Shout to balance it out.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold, with the promise of snow lingering in the clouds. Sam and Dean were up not long after dawn, looking for all the world like a pair of excited overgrown children, instead of the Boy King of Hell and the Righteous Man.

They carted their piles of sloppily-wrapped gifts to the library, arranging them under the tree. Sam went to work lighting a fire in the ancient fireplace while Dean put the coffee on and began pulling things from the fridge.

Sam had just finished chopping strawberries and melons while Dean was flipping pancakes with one hand and poking at the bacon with the other when Cas appeared in the doorway, rubbing his eyes and making little snuffling noises that Dean had given up denying were adorable.

"Could you cook any more loudly?" he said grumpily, but he sniffed the air in appreciation.

Dean ignored him. "Merry Christmas, Cas!"

"Um. Merry Christmas to you as well. And you, Sam."

He glanced into the library and froze, eyes wide.

"Breakfast first, then presents!" Dean said. "An' don't worry, we know you didn't really have --"

"They're supposed to be wrapped?" Cas interrupted.

"Wha- -- uh, yeah, but…" He trailed off as Cas disappeared back up the stairs, and turned to Sam, who just shrugged.

Dean was sliding the last pancake onto a plate when Cas reappeared in the doorway, carrying two smallish packages wrapped in newspaper and what seemed to be an entire roll of tape.

"I, uh, I only had newspaper in my room, I hope that's --"

"It's fine, Cas," Dean said, smiling. "Lotta people use newspaper, actually. Hell, I think one year I wrapped Sammy's gift in an old skin mag."

"You actually _gave_ me a skin mag wrapped in an old skin mag."

"See? Like two gifts in one!" Dean declared. "Go an' add those to the pile then come eat. There's coffee."

Cas perked up at the mention of coffee, shuffling off to the library, then reappeared and dropped into a chair, reaching for the mug Dean handed him. He eyed the mountains of food on the table.

"I don't think you made enough bacon, Dean," Cas said.

Dean opened his mouth to object before he noticed the small smirk on Cas' face, and he groaned.

"Oh good," he said. "Humanity's just made you even _more_ of a sarcastic ass."

Cas just hummed, sneaking a hand out to steal the pancake Dean was reaching for.

"Hey!" Dean objected, brandishing his fork. "Get your own."

"I just did," Cas pointed out, piling his plate with bacon and eggs and covering the whole mess with syrup. Dean grumbled under his breath, but Sam caught the smile quirking at his mouth.

"Dude, you're even putting syrup on your _eggs_ ," Sam said, making a face. He turned to Dean. "Jesus, he's even adopting your disgusting eating habits."

"I like syrup," he said simply. As if to prove a point, he snagged a strawberry and swiped it through a puddle, popping it into his mouth. Sam gagged obnoxiously, but Dean had paused with his fork halfway to his mouth, tracking the motion. Sam kicked him under the table and he jumped, turning a bitchface on Sam to rival one of his own. Sam just grinned at him and shoved a huge bite of toast into his mouth.

After they had eaten themselves lethargic, they dumped the dishes in the sink and stumbled back to the library. Dean made them tall glasses of eggnog with a generous if not lethal splash of rum, depositing them on the coffee table, and looked around with a contented sigh.

Out of brotherly duty he had done his best to outdo Sam on decorations. Circlets of fake popcorn looped in and out of the branches, now heavy with ornaments, and Sam's silver star crowned the top. Sprays of fragrant pine lay on nearly every free surface, with tall red candles nestled between the leaves, and twin poinsettias bookended the mantle. Dean knew he should be repelled by the blatant sentimentality, but as he looked at Sam digging excitedly through the presents, and the firelight flickering on Cas' face, he couldn't quite bring himself to care.

Sam finally tossed Cas a soft lumpy package and Dean a small rectangular one. "From me," he called, then picked up a thin, floppy gift from Dean. "Dean, tell me you didn't..." He ripped open the paper and started to laugh, picking up the magazine. "Nice. Not just a skin mag, but a gay skin mag. This from your collection?" he said, expecting a sarcastic retort or at least a middle finger, but Dean just wiggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe," he said. "Sorry if the pages stick together."

"Oh God!" Sam said in horror, and Dean burst out laughing. 

"Kidding, little bro," he finally said, hiccuping. "Go on, open it up, huh?"

"Dean," Sam said, starting to laugh as well, "I really don't --" He trailed off as he flipped open the magazine and a small card fell out. He picked it up curiously, then broke into a grin. "Dude! $100 to Barnes and Noble?"

"Well, figured maybe the bunker could use some books from this century," Dean said.

"Thanks, man. For real," Sam said, and Dean could see the gears in his brain already turning as he went over his mental wish-list.

"Yeah, yeah. Nerd. Cas?"

Cas had been watching the exchange with a small smile on his face, and he jumped. He bit his lip -- which Dean resolutely did not stare at -- and slid a careful finger under the paper.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, just rip it open," Dean said. "S'half the fun."

Cas blinked at him, then gingerly tore into the wrapping paper, pulling out the cat-and-bee-themed winter wear Sam had got him. He held up the hat, staring at it confusedly for a moment, then broke into an actual grin.

"You remembered," he said to Sam with evident surprise.

"Well, yeah," Sam said. "I mean, I watched you _interrogate_ a cat, dude, and ramble about the honeybee's 'route of flowers' or whatever. Kinda sticks with you."

Cas blushed, but he was still smiling. "Thank you," he said softly. "That's very kind of you. I've never... received a gift before." He jammed the hat on his head. Something entirely breakfast-unrelated burbled in Dean's belly, and he thought distantly that if it put that look on Cas' face, he'd give him a present every day for the rest of his life.

He shook himself and picked up his gift from Sam, frowning at it suspiciously. Sam was still watching like an excited puppy, but there was a hint of nervousness around his eyes. He ripped off the paper and threw it aside, turning over its contents curiously.

Inside was a gorgeous photograph of the Impala, flawless and gleaming, ink-black on a field of snow. The pink and gold of a Kansas sunset hung vivid in the background, scored by streaks of clouds, and it was framed in simple silver.

He stared at it for a few moments, running his fingertip over the glass, and when he looked up Sam was still watching him anxiously.

"Is it OK?" Sam asked. "I know we usually stick to useful gifts and shit, but I just thought --"

"I love it," Dean said, his voice catching slightly, and he cleared his throat. "Seriously. She's been our home for 30 years, we should have a picture of her in our new home." He got up and cleared some of the pine branches from the mantle and set it carefully in place. To Sam's shock, he didn't make even a token chick-flick comment as he sat back down, but he did cough awkwardly. "You take that picture yourself, Sammy? Some kinda photography genius now too?"

Sam snorted. "More like I spent 45 minutes in the freezing fucking cold taking pictures with my phone until I lucked into one that didn't suck." He picked up the squishy package Cas had brought down, turning it around curiously. There was no label, so he looked at Cas, who blushed again.

"I -- that's for you," he mumbled, staring at his hands.

Sam smiled at him reassuringly -- at the top of his head, at least -- and ripped open the paper. He drew out a thick scarf, butter-soft, a plaid pattern done in shades of brown and green.

He looked at Cas in astonishment. "Dude, did you -- did you _make_ this?" he asked, letting the fabric flow through his fingers.

Cas shifted uncomfortably. "I, uh... yes? I was exploring the bunker when you were in Nebraska, and I found an array of various supplies in a closet downstairs, including yarn and needles. I've never seen you wear a scarf, and it's cold, so I thought -- and it wasn't hard to learn how, on the Internet..."

Dean burst out laughing. "Here me an' Sammy thought you were lookin' at porn, but nope, just watching knitting tutorials on YouTube." Sam and Cas turned identical glares on him, but he just cackled.

"Ignore him," Sam said with a long-suffering sigh. "This is -- I don't even know. You _made_ me a scarf. Nobody's ever done anything like that for me. It even matches my jacket." He wrapped it around his neck, despite the heat from the fireplace, and Cas gave him a tentative smile.

They continued tearing into their presents, but took their time, making it last as long as possible. Sam and Dean had wrapped most of Cas' new clothes separately, so he had more stuff to open. He unwrapped each with raw reverence, from the long overcoat Sam had found for him ("I know you love the trenchcoat, dude, but trust me, that shit is _not_ gonna keep you warm when it's ten below") down to the package of basic white boxers Dean had picked up at Wal-Mart. And if Dean had picked out jeans that he was pretty sure would hang low and snug on Cas' hips, and maybe a silky button-down the exact shade of Cas' ocean-blue eyes, well, nobody needed to know.

The rest of the gifts the brothers exchanged were mostly small, practical things, tools and supplies, and a requisite new flannel for Sam. By the time Dean opened a large tin of good coffee that he immediately declared to be communal, the only things left under the tree were Cas' laptop and the small box containing Cas' gift to Dean, both of which he somehow wanted to savor. Sam began to reach for one of them, but Dean stopped him.

"Hol' up," he announced. "Actually got you one more thing, Sammy. S'a surprise."

"Weren't... _all_ of these surprises?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Wait here. And close your eyes." He pointed at Cas. "You tell me if he peeks." He left the room and clattered down the stairs to the garage, then back up, more slowly. "OK, he said, slightly breathless. "Can look now."

Sam opened his eyes tentatively, then his jaw dropped when he saw Dean standing in the doorway with a big steel bicycle, clearly old, but shiny and sturdy.

"You... got me a _bicycle_?" he said incredulously.

"Well, technically the Men of Letters got you a bicycle," Dean said, shrugging. "Found it in some corner of the garage when I was digging up something for Baby. Figured if I can rebuild a damn car from the ground up, I should be able to fix up a _bicycle_." Sam still hadn't moved. "Uh, it's cool if it's not your thing, a'course. Thought maybe, y'know, all your hippie bullshit, your salads and your running, but -- _oof_."

He shut up as Sam crossed the room in two huge strides, enveloping him in a rare hug.

"All right, all right," he mumbled, but his arms came up to return the hug.

Sam broke away, looking sheepish. "Sorry," he said. "I just -- I always wished I could have a bike, you know? Not really practical, moving every few weeks. Had to learn how after school from some kids in Indiana."

Dean paused, thinking back. "Wait. So when you used to come home late after school --" He burst out laughing again. "I thought you were -- I dunno, smoking or something. You were _riding a bike_?"

"Always the rebel," Sam declared, sitting back down. "Thank you, Dean. That's -- _awesome_. Can't wait to take it out. Well, maybe after the snow clears a little."

"Yeah, an' don't you dare 'til I get you a helmet, too," Dean said.

Sam snorted. "We fight vampires and demons on the daily, and you're worried about a bike helmet?"

"Hey, a smashed-in skull can happen on a bike too, not just a monster," Dean said, then laughed. "All right, what we got left?"

Sam handed the laptop package to Cas and Cas' gift to Dean. Dean took it automatically, but his eyes were on Cas. Cas stared at it a moment, the only gift he'd received that wasn't a shapeless lump of fabric, then slid his finger under the seam. He pulled out the laptop box, turning it over confusedly, then looked up at Sam and Dean, wearing identical grins.

"S'your new laptop," Sam said proudly. "From both of us."

"My... what?" Cas said, blank.

"Laptop?" Dean interjected. "Computer? Thing you watch porn on and learn how to knit from?"

Cas pulled the computer from its box, thumbing it open, then frowned. "I -- but I don't know how -- I don't even know how to turn it _on_..."

Dean couldn't bite back a laugh, and Cas turned a hurt expression to him. He held up his hands.

"Cas, we can teach you the basics in like an hour. Sammy 'specially. Trust me. If you can learn to knit a scarf in like a friggin' _week_ , 'm pretty sure you can learn to navigate a computer."

"But... why --?"

Dean rolled his eyes, but Sam interrupted. "It just makes sense," he said. "I know what I keep on my laptop and Dean knows what he keeps on his." He paused. "I mean, God only knows what he keeps on his, but you know. It'd just make things more complicated if you know you saved some info, but you weren't sure on which computer. We all got our own methods."

"I," Cas said again, softly. "You -- you really want me around that long?"

Dean's face crumpled a bit, and even Sam's heart clenched.

"Cas," Sam said gently, "you're family. This is your home, long as you want it. And when you decide you don't want it, well, if you think we're not gonna fight tooth and nail to change your mind, you're an idiot."

Cas closed the laptop gently and hugged it to his chest. "Thank -- thank you."

Dean grinned at him, a bit tremulously. "Later on we'll get it set up for you, get you on Sam's magic WiFi and all," he said, and Cas returned his smile.

"OK, Dean," Sam said, "you're last up. Whatcha got? Bet it's not as cool as a homemade _scarf_."

Dean stuck his tongue out at Sam, but he peeled off the newspaper, much more carefully than he did any other present, and pulled out a small jewelry box. He glanced at Cas, who was watching him with an unreadable expression.

He opened it and lifted out a bracelet, left untied on a leather thong. It was made of slender wooden beads, sanded and polished until the grain shone through in golds and browns. Two or three charms were interspersed with the beads, clearly handmade: a star, and a sun, and a simple hollow circle.

Dean lifted it out and laid it on his left wrist, the wood warm on his skin. "Y'make this too?" he asked, hoarse.

Cas nodded. "I -- I didn't have to learn, though," he admitted. "Many angels have done woodcarving. Making something beautiful from a dead piece of nature." He fidgeted. "It -- I made it from woodscraps, around the bunker. I liked the colors. It looked like you."

"It's awesome, Cas," he said. "Beautiful." He leaned over, holding out his arm. "Tie it on?"

Cas bit his lip again, but he reached out, knotting the leather together with sure fingers, so it was loose but secure, then sat back. He and Dean stared at each other for a moment, until Sam coughed.

Cas flushed. "Dean, Sam, I, uh -- thank you," he said. "I --"

"Hold up," Dean said. "Uh, I -- we got you one other thing."

" _Dean_ got you one other thing," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, not that I objected, but his idea. Ugh, I need more eggnog." He got up and strolled into the kitchen.

"Asshole," Dean muttered, and Cas looked at him in puzzlement.

He sighed, and pulled out a small squarish box from his pocket. Cas reached out, taking it gingerly in his hand.

"S'nothing big," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just -- go on."

Cas opened the box, lifting out a small brass keychain, ringed with a handful of keys. He looked at Dean confusedly.

"It, uh," Dean began. "It's the keys to the bunker. Me an' Sammy had the only copies, but. We. We thought you should too." He leaned forward, tapping each key with a fingertip. "That's the front door, the big one. And that's the garage, and that's down to the dungeon." He paused, lingering on the last key. "And that -- and that's the Impala."

Cas' head jerked up, and he stared, wide-eyed.

"You're giving me -- keys -- to your _car_?"

"I -- yeah, Cas, I am. I mean, don't expect me to be handin' over driving privileges every day, but... you should have your own set, just in case."

Cas thumbed over the edges of the key in silence, and when he looked up, his eyes were brimming.

"Cas?" Dean said. "Cas, you --"

Suddenly Dean found himself with six feet of ex-angel in his lap, kissing him hard. His brain went offline for a moment, and he stiffened automatically, unresponsive.

Cas pulled away, his eyes wide, shocked and horrified. "Oh, God," he whispered. "I didn't -- I didn't mean to --" He scrambled off Dean's lap so fast he nearly cracked his head on the coffee table, and Dean caught up to the current events quickly when he saw Cas go tumbling off.

"Whoa," he said, hoarse and dry. "Cas."

"No," Cas said miserably. "No, this was so -- so nice, and I ruined it, I --"

"Cas," Dean said again, insistently. "Come back here."

Cas looked at him disbelievingly, and he climbed back onto the couch, a safe distance from Dean.

Dean rolled his eyes. "No, come back _here_ , idiot," he said, patting his legs.

Cas stared at him for a moment, the crawled back over to awkwardly straddle his lap, sitting up straight.

Dean reached up, swiping his thumbs over his wet cheekbones. He pulled Cas' mouth back down to his, and another few tears slid down Cas' face, settling into the spaces at the corners of their lips.

He kissed them away, idly twisting his fingers in the soft black hair.

"Merry Christmas, Cas."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry smutmas, y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rating change! I hope you all have happy holidays, and I hope you enjoy this gift of porn!
> 
> (Very unedited.)

Neither Dean nor Cas noticed Sam poking his head back through the doorway, then beating a quick tiptoed retreat with a grin on his face. Dean was too busy learning the taste of Cas' lips and the sensation of the skin at the small of his back, and Cas was lost to the world in open reverent awe.

Finally they pulled apart, foreheads tilted against each other and breath short and stuttered.

"Um," Dean volunteered, color rising in his cheeks.

Cas pulled back further, his eyes wide and slightly scared. "Dean," he said, biting at his lip, "you don't -- I know you aren't --"

Dean rolled his eyes and tugged him back in for a kiss, soft and sweet.

"Cas, buddy, I know your 'people skills' are 'rusty' and all, but you gotta know I look at you as more'n a pal."

Cas flushed. "I admit -- I sometimes hoped, but I assumed it was a side effect of humanity. Seeing what I wanted to see."

"And what'd you want to see?" Dean asked, absently stroking the back of Cas' neck.

"You," Cas murmured. "Looking at me like I look at you. But, Dean, you're not -- you like women, I'm aware… you don't --"

"Cas," Dean said, "one've the few good things about bein' a human, we adapt n' change. S'even possible for even fuck-ups like me to get over our hang-ups."

Cas frowned. "Dean, you stopped the apocalypse. I hardly think that you're --"

"I also _started_ it," Dean pointed out. "Anyway. Point is, I'm pretty on board with your anatomy." He ran his hand down Cas' ribs in emphasis, and he could hear Cas' heart hammering even through the thick sweater he was wearing.

"Hey," he murmured, rubbing a thumb over a hipbone. "You sure _you're_ on board with this? You gotta be dealin' with some fucked-up feelings, turnin' human and all, don't wanna push you into anything…"

Cas blinked at him in surprise. "I became aware of these feelings long before I began losing my grace. It's one of the few things that _hasn't_ changed, as a human."

Dean swallowed. "So you wanna, y'know… keep goin'?"

"Are you asking me if I wish to continue kissing?" Cas asked, confusion written on his face. "I would have thought that was evident."

Dean snorted softly. "Yeah, well, I'm kinda dense," he mumbled. "But I meant, like… y'know. Touching, too."

Cas tilted his head, his eyes no less intense from his fall from grace. The light from the tree and the fire flickered over his body, white and red and green dancing on his skin.

"I want every touch you have to give me, Dean Winchester," he said, fitting his thumbs under Dean's jaw. Dean bit back a groan, pulling Cas' mouth back down to his.

Eventually Dean broke away again. "Um," he said, pushing Cas back. "Should probably take this upstairs. Don't think Sammy wants an eyeful."

Cas shrank away slightly. "You wish to hide this from him."

Dean stared at him quizzically for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

"Cas," he said, reaching up to soothe Cas' frown with a kiss, "Sammy knew my feelin' for you before _I_ did. I mean, would be kinda funny to fuck with him. But the little genius prob'ly already knows what's goin' on in here. Doesn't mean he wants to watch."

"No," Sam's voice floated in from the kitchen. "He doesn't."

Cas' eyes went wide and cheeks red, but Dean just grinned at him.

" _Oh, Cas_ ," he moaned theatrically, and something that sounded like a shoe thumped against the wall. "All right, all right, we're goin' upstairs. Bitch."

"Jerk," came the reply. "Do I need to cover my eyes?"

"Yep," Dean announced. "Buck-ass naked. Hey, did you know that Cas has this freckle -- _ow_!" he yelped as Cas hit him with a pillow. "Yeah, OK, we're decent. Right down to your stupid hat."

"I like the hat," Cas mumbled, but he let Dean pull him off the couch.

Dean gave Sam's smug smile a perfunctory middle finger as he dragged Cas up the stairs, but once they were alone in his bedroom he found he didn't quite know what to do with his hands.

"So," he finally said, reaching up to pluck off Cas' stupid hat. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hand, but Cas caught it, tilting his head.

"You're scared," he said. "Dean, we don't have to --"

"Yep," Dean interrupted. "I am. But Cas…" He paused, chewing on his lip. "There's good scared and bad scared," he finally said.

"And you're good scared?"

"Yeah. Very good." He pulled Cas' mouth back to his, and soon enough his nerves got lost in the sensation of Cas' tentative tongue curling against his.

"Jesus," he mumbled into his lips. "The fuck you learn to kiss like that? I need to send Meg a fruit basket?"

Cas just hummed. He slid his hands under Dean's t-shirt, and Dean let out a whine.

"Too many clothes," he said, yanking at Cas' sweater. Cas tugged it off obligingly, leaving his hair even messier, and stood blinking in Dean's old sweats and a thin t-shirt.

"Kinda regretting gettin' you new clothes," Dean murmured. "Like you in mine."

"We can share…" Cas reached out, fiddling hesitantly at the hem of Dean's shirt. "Can I --?"

Dean lifted his arms, and Cas pulled it off, cool fingertips dragging up his ribs. They brushed over a nipple, and as soon as Dean's shirt was tossed into a corner, he grabbed Cas' hand and yanked him to the bed.

"Now you," he said, tugging at Cas' shirt. Once it was off, they sat back and stared.

They had seen each other shirtless before, of course, touched each other, stitched each other up when Cas' grace was fading, but it felt nothing like sitting there alone in the bedroom, the half-light filtering in from the hallway.

Dean's eyes drifted down to Cas' warding tattoo, barely healed Enochian on his skin.

"Lay back," he whispered, pushing at Cas' shoulders. As soon as Cas obeyed, Dean bent down, pressing his lips against the sigils on his ribs.

"Dean," Cas gasped, hips arching instinctively. The hardness in his jeans nudged against Dean's chest, and he groaned. Keeping his tongue on the inked symbols, he slid his hand down until his fingers were toying with the button.

"Can I?" he asked, raising his head. "It's OK if --"

"Please," Cas whispered, his eyes shimmering.

Dean tugged open the button and pulled off his jeans, leaving Cas in a pair of Dean's old flannel boxers. "You're beautiful," he blurted, staring at the shadows pooling in Cas' collarbones, and Cas flushed.

"I want to see you too."

"OK," Dean said, reaching down to his own jeans. "OK."

Finally Dean climbed up to straddle Cas' waist, and they ground their hips together for the first time.

"Oh," Cas said blankly, his head tipping back.

Dean stilled himself with effort and bent forward, brushing their lips together.

"Cas," he said, pulling back with difficulty. "You -- you haven't done this, have you?"

Cas shrugged. "With a woman. Not with a man. It doesn't seem very different." He tilted his head, eyeing Dean with honest curiosity. "Have you?" Dean flushed and drew back slightly, biting his lip, and Cas dropped an apologetic kiss on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's not my business."

Dean snorted. "Dude, at this point, I think it's your business." He was silent for a long moment, toying with Cas' hair. "Yeah, I have. Kinda. Um. I had to put food on the table for Sam. And Dad… wasn't there. So."

Cas stared at him until it clicked in his brain and then he went wide-eyed, horrified.

"You…"

"Hey," Dean said, nudging him. "Yeah, s'fucked up, I know. But I was lucky. Only had to a few times and the guys were nice enough. Never did bad shit, or forced me or anythin'. And I -- I didn't hate it."

Cas was still staring him. "But you -- you _sold_ yourself -- for Sam?"

"Yeah, I did," Dean said defensively, scooting back up against the headboard. "I was eighteen, at least. An' I'd do it again in a heartbeat. And I know I'm clean, but if that makes me _dirty_ to you -- _oomph_." Cas launched himself at him full-force, his head knocking against the wall, and kissed him deep and hard.

"I love you," Cas said simply, and Dean blinked up at him in shock.

"I tell you I was a whore and you tell me you love me?"

"You weren't a whore. You did what you had to do. And I'd love you if you were, anyway."

"Jesus, Cas," Dean whispered.

Cas bit gently at his neck. "Can we be naked?" he asked tentatively. "I mean -- if you don't, we don't have to --"

Dean let out an exasperated groan. "Cas. For once and for all, 'm not traumatized for gettin' paid to do somethin' I probably would've done anyway. And like almost two decades ago." He paused, then tilted Cas' head up. "Sam can't know, though, not about that -- capisce?"

Cas studied him, then something in his eyes relaxed. "Yes. I… capisce." He reached down and tugged at Dean's boxers and Dean rolled over. They shifted and pulled and touched and kissed until they were both naked, pressed together and panting.

Cas pushed gently at his chest and Dean pulled away immediately.

"Too much? Do you want --"

"I want to look at you," Cas interrupted.

"Oh." Dean shut his mouth and lay back against the pillows. A blush crept into his face as Cas' eyes tracked unabashedly up and down his body, making his freckles stand out even in the watery yellow light from the bedside lamp. "Like what you see?" he asked, trying for a smirk, but his voice cracked slightly.

"Yes," Cas said simply. His eyes lingered on Dean's cock, thick against his stomach and already dripping precome, and he reached for it hesitantly, glancing up with a questioning look.

"Yeah," Dean breathed, wide-eyed. "Yeah, please…"

Cas ran his thumb over the slick head, watching in awe as it jerked under his fingertips, more wetness leaking out. Without warning, he bent down and licked at the tip.

"Oh _fuck_ ," Dean gasped, his head dropping back and his hand twisting in the sheets. "Cas -- Cas, you don't have to --"

"Does that feel good?" he asked, blinking his huge blue eyes in honest question.

"Does that -- yes, Cas, that fucking feels _good_. Did -- did April never do that to you?"

Cas shrugged. "We had only the one night together," he said softly. "I fear my experience is limited."

Dean laughed hoarsely. "Well, s'not like I got a ton of recent experience suckin' dick, so I guess we can -- we can -- oh God, Cas, Jesus, Jesus --" He broke off into an incoherent groan as Cas wrapped his lips experimentally around the tip and sucked, sliding his thumb against the sensitive underside.

It was clumsy and messy, with undeniably a few too many teeth, but with Cas' forehead scrunching in concentration as his cock disappeared between those heavenly lips, Dean felt his orgasm begin coiling in his belly almost immediately.

"Cas," he gasped, blinding stroking Cas' hair, "Cas, Cas, gonna come --"

Cas gave him another slow lick, almost pushing him over the edge, but then pulled off, and Dean couldn't bite back an unhappy whine.

Cas opened his mouth apologetically but Dean cut him off.

"S'okay," he assured him. "S'okay. I know it's -- let me just take care of this an' then I wanna show you --"

"No," Cas said, and Dean flinched.

"Oh," he said, more hesitantly. "It's cool -- let me just go and --" He made a move to wiggle out of the bed.

"No," Cas said again. He swung his legs over Dean's hips, keeping him still. "I want…"

"Tell me what you want, Cas," he whispered, running soothing hands over his sides as hesitation flickered in Cas' eyes.

"I want to have sex with you," Cas finally blurted, and Dean's eyes went wide.

"Like… sex-sex?"

"Yes. I want to have penetrative intercourse," Cas affirmed. "With you."

Dean snorted softly. "Why is that somehow sexy comin' from you?" he mumbled, half to himself. "But, Cas, dude, seriously, if you don't wanna move that fast --"

Cas rolled his eyes, then cut him off with a kiss. "I have desired your body for nearly as long as I have loved your soul," he murmured against his lips. "I have no wish to move slowly anymore."

"Christ," Dean breathed. He reached down to stroke Cas gently, relishing the way his breathing hitched. "So -- uh -- how d'you wanna -- you know," he finished lamely, feeling suddenly shy.

Cas stared down at him uncertainly. "You've -- you've done both, both giving and receiving?"

Dean blushed. "I, ah -- no. I've only, you know, received. Bottomed. So it'd prob'ly be easier for me to be the one to --"

"You've never… topped?"

"No," Dean said. "Not really what most dudes are lookin' for from a twinky-lookin' eighteen-year-old."

"Then I want you to," Cas said immediately, and Dean sighed.

"No, dude, that wasn't what I meant. Seriously, I don't mind it."

Cas shook his head. "No, I… I would like it if we shared something new for both of us," he said. "For… for our first time. If that's all right with you."

"You want me to fuck you?" Dean asked, voice cracking, and Cas nodded.

"If you want to."

"Jesus Christ, of course I want to," Dean said. "But… you're sure?"

Cas sat back slightly, and a hint of his old unfathomable power flashed in his eyes. "Dean Winchester, I have loved you inside and out from the moment I found you and dragged you out of Hell. There is nothing I want more than to have you inside of _me_ at last."

"Jesus Christ," Dean said again. "So… you know how this works?"

"More or less," Cas whispered, and the remnant angelic glints were gone from his eyes, replaced with an open vulnerability. "Will you help me?"

Dean sat up, pulling him into a tender kiss. "A'course I will, Cas," he assured him. "An' you gotta tell me if anything hurts, okay? Or if anything just don't feel good? I never done this either so we gotta, y'know, talk."

"Are you asking me to talk about feelings?" Cas murmured, a smirk dancing behind the lust in his eyes, and Dean let out a groan.

"Sarcastic little shit," he announced. He bucked his hips, and with one smooth motion he had Cas flipped over, and he knelt between his legs, grinning down at him. He couldn't resist leaning down to mouth at the head of Cas' cock, licking up a salty drop, but he pulled off when Cas arched up into him.

"Next time," Dean promised. "Next time, gonna make you come with my tongue, swallow you down. Want this now, though." He reached into the nightstand, fumbling around for a bottle of lube, then held up a string of condoms. "Um," he said. "Know I'm clean, but, if you want, we should --"

"I've never had sex as a human, Dean," Cas said. "I would prefer to feel _you_."

"Yeah," Dean croaked. "I can do that." He rubbed gently at the back of Cas' thighs, urging them back and out. "Gotta spread 'em for me, Cas."

As soon as he had Cas' feet planted by his hips, he squirted lube onto his hand, spreading it over his fingers, then reached between Cas' legs. He trailed his index finger down his shaft, over his balls, then pressed further, until he felt the give of his hole. Gently, slowly he pushed finger inside. Cas' eyes went wide, and he grabbed Dean's wrist. 

Dean froze. "Too much?" he asked softly. "We don't have to --"

"No," Cas breathed. "This is just -- just intense." He took several breaths, then let go. "Okay. More."

Dean pushed in further, agonizingly slow, ignoring his own aching cock, until his index finger was buried up to the second knuckle, and he could slide it in and out easily.

"Another?" he whispered, and Cas groaned in assent.

By the time he could work three fingers in and out, Cas was writhing on the bed, eyes wide and glassy.

"Please, Dean," he begged, trying to shove himself down on his hand. "Please, now…"

"You sure?" Dean asked, crooking his fingers to graze his prostate, and Cas choked back a scream.

"I may not be an angel anymore," he said with a hazy glare, "but I _will_ smite you."

Dean just grinned at him, but he leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips before pushing Cas' legs open further, then lubed up his cock and pressed it to his slick hole.

By the time he had even worked the head inside, Cas' eyes had slipped closed, and he was breathing out in high little keens.

"Good?" Dean murmured, thumbing at Cas' nipple, and he shuddered.

" _More_ ," he begged.

"Shit," Dean swore softly. "Since you asked so nicely." He pushed in further and further, slowly, until he looked down in awe at the sight of his dick buried in the ass of an ex-angel of the fucking Lord, who was now sobbing obscenely in pleasure underneath him. "So fucking gorgeous," he blurted.

"Move, please," Cas moaned. "Touch me."

"Fuck," Dean muttered. He began thrusting in and out, and Cas wrapped his legs around his back, pulling him in deeper. "Not gonna last," he warned, then slid his hand around his cock.

"God, Dean," Cas cried out. "This is -- this is _nothing_ like --"

"See?" Dean ground out. "Ain't _all_ bad, bein' human…"

" _Dean_ ," Cas gasped, his hands coming up to grip Dean's hips hard enough to bruise. "I think -- I think I'm going to --"

Dean tightened his grip and pulled out, then slammed home again, two, three times, and then Cas' eyes went wide and his fingers clenched, and he was coming in hot pools over Dean's fist, dripping onto his belly.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Dean whispered, and the feeling of Cas shuddering underneath him tore his orgasm out of him, his face locked in a rictus of pleasure as he stared into Cas' face.

" _Jesus_ ," Dean finally croaked, pulling out and crawling up to flop half-atop Cas. "Jesus."

"Jesus," Cas agreed. "I didn't… I didn't know it could feel like that."

"Like I said," Dean mumbled. "Perks of bein' a human an' all."

"Mm," Cas said. He looked down and wrinkled his nose. "I would not be averse to my mojo right now, however."

Dean snorted softly. "Showers are a nice substitute," he assured him. "In a few." He paused, then snickered.

"What?" Cas murmured, nearly slurring, and pulled Dean closer.

"Know what I like about you bein' human?" he said sleepily, nuzzling into Cas' chest. "Least I got you callin' out your dad's name is bed."

Cas was silent for a few moments, then shuddered. "I believe I have discovered the human quality you call 'imagination'," he mumbled. "And I do not believe I enjoy it."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I seriously wanted to get this done for the new year, but apparently writing this much fluff pushes the ANGST KINK FLUFF SPANKING PORN triggers in my brain, so it's a bit late. but I hope you enjoy!

Dean and Cas spent the better part of the next few days after Christmas holed up in Dean's room, learning the nuances of each other's bodies. Dean didn't think he'd ever get tired of cataloguing the sounds he could drag out of Cas, and Castiel had apparently been hiding a wellspring of creativity in the ways he could combine his lips and tongue and hands.

So they just ducked down the hall for long, languid showers, exchanging slow kisses and lazy handjobs under the spray, and crept into the kitchen like guilty children at odd hours, when Sam was likely to be elsewhere.

Dean wasn't exactly avoiding his little brother, not really; he knew there would be nothing but open happiness for them in his puppy-dog eyes. But the whole thing was so fresh and strange and _new_ , he still wanted to keep it wrapped up like a fragile gift for a little while, something perfect and pure and only for them.

But they couldn't stay in Dean's room forever, and finally one morning the smell of bacon and coffee wafting in was enticing enough to convince them to put on actual clothes and stumble down the stairs.

"Better be makin' enough to go around, Sammy," Dean called, shuffling into the kitchen and dropping into a chair. Cas followed, looking slightly shy.

"Oh, _now_ you come crawling back to the land of the living," Sam said in mock-offense, but he threw Cas an affectionate smile. "You're just using me for breakfast."

"Yep," Dean affirmed. "And coffee."

"Fair enough, 'cause I'm using your coffee."

"Hey!" Dean objected, but shut up when Sam plunked two steaming mugs and a plate of toast on the table.

"You said it was communal," he reminded him.

They ate in a contented silence for awhile, punctuated by crunching and clattering silverware, until Dean finally pushed his plate away with a happy groan.

"So what've you been up to the last couple days?" he asked, popping his last forkful of bacon and eggs in his mouth. "Arry-thing in'resting?"

Sam wrinkled his nose. "Dude. Swallow."

"Oh, I swallow," Dean said with a wink, mouth still full. "Just ask Cas." He could almost feel Cas turning red beside him, and Sam's forehead hit the table with a thunk. He grinned around the room in satisfaction.

"Yeah, mostly hoping nothing _interesting_ enough to necessitate me going near your bedroom would come up," Sam said into the table.

"Thank God for soundproof rooms, eh, Sammy?" Dean said. "Though, y'know, sometimes Cas does this _thing_ with his tongue, and I think -- _ow_!" he yelped, as Sam and Cas both kicked him under the table.

"I apologize for your brother," Cas muttered, still blushing. "It was not my intent to make you uncomfortable."

Sam smiled at him reassuringly. "Believe me, I don't blame you, dude," he said. "Remember, I grew up with this Neanderthal."

Dean let out a belch in agreement, and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, I actually talked to Charlie yesterday."

"Yeah?" Dean said, smiling. "How's the little nerd doing?"

"She sounds great. Actually in Kansas City for some comics thing or another and she wanted to know if we wanted company for New Year's."

Dean's eyes lit up. "Hell yeah! We'll have a mini-party. Star Wars and champagne. I'll make up one of the empty bedrooms."

"Better make it the one farthest from yours," Sam said.

Dean stuck his tongue out at him, but he caught sight of Cas shifting uncomfortably. "What's up, Cas?"

"I, uh… I've never met Charlie," he said awkwardly. "I know she's a good friend of yours, but --"

"Wait, you've never met Charlie?" Dean said, incredulous. "No way, that's -- how is that possible?"

Cas shrugged. "We've been estranged more than once, Dean," he said softly, and Dean grabbed his hand.

"You'll love her," he promised. "An' I think she already loves you. Can't _believe_ you guys never met. God, this is gonna be awful."

Cas looked up in obvious confusion, and Sam laughed. "In a good way, dude," he said. "Trust us."

\---

Charlie pulled up to the bunker around lunchtime on New Year's Eve in her ludicrously lemon-yellow car, and Sam and Dean met her at the door with identical grins.

"What up, bitches!" she yelled, standing on her tiptoes to hug them. Sam lifted her off the ground and spun her around, and Dean dropped a kiss into her mess of vivid hair.

Cas hung back slightly, with a sincere if apprehensive smile, but her face lit up when she caught sight of him.

"Fucking finally!" she exclaimed, stomping over to him, then ignored the tentative hand he offered in favor of throwing her arms around his neck. She pulled back and eyed him head to toe.

"Damn, I was _so_ right," she announced. "He _is_ dreamy."

"Uh… is that a flirtation?" Cas asked, blinking, and the other three burst out laughing.

"Sorry, Cas, dreamy as you are, still don't have the right equipment for me." She leaned in. "Might try your luck with studmuffin over there, though," she said in a stage whisper, tilting her chin at Dean.

"Oh my _God_ ," Dean groaned. He grabbed Charlie's hand and yanked her away, then pulled Cas to him, dropping a slow, sweet kiss to his mouth. Charlie, for once, was speechless, mouth agape. She stared at Dean and Cas, who were wearing a smug grin and a shy smile, then at Sam, whose disgusted face contradicted the affection in his eyes.

"What the _hell_ ," Charlie finally screeched, smacking at Dean, and Cas flinched, wide-eyed. "Macho man Dean Winchester finally goes dark side and nobody even thought to inform their favorite lesbian hunter? God, do I need to send you a welcome basket?"

"Hey!" Dean protested, laughing. "S'a recent thing, okay?"

"How recent?" she demanded.

"Uh… Christmas," Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, then nodded. "Fine," she said magnanimously. "I forgive you." She glanced over at Sam, then clapped her hands. "And now the straight dude is the minority in the little house of gayness!"

"Hey, I am not gay!" Dean objected.

"And I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation," Cas added.

"God, we're a walking joke," Charlie said with a groan. "A lesbian, a straight guy, a butch bi dude and an ex-angel of the Lord walk into a bar…"

"If you come up with a punchline I owe you a new laptop," Sam informed her. Her eyes lit up, and he backpedalled. "A drink. I'll owe you a drink."

\---

By 11:45, _Return of the Jedi_ was winding down, and shot glasses and beer bottles were accumulating impressively on the coffee table. Dean and Cas were stretched out on the couch, Sam on the armchair, and Charlie was sitting crosslegged on the floor, trying and failing to surreptitiously text.

"Not good enough for you here, huh?" Dean said lazily, and Charlie threw him a sheepish glare.

"What, I'm not allowed to find a hot girl in Kansas?" she said. "I can't shut this down."

Sam tilted his head back. "Just don't leave me the fifth wheel," he groaned. "Not in my house."

She smirked at him briefly, then tapped at her phone before tossing it aside. "OK. So're we making resolutions?"

Dean stuck his tongue out. "Not exactly easy to make resolutions in this family," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically. "Fine. " _I_... resolve not to hack into any government institutions. Unless I _really_ need to. Or… it's real- -- _ow_ , Sam, God!"

Sam flicked her one final time on the ear. "I, uh… I resolve to trust more. My family and my friends. Not to, you know, hide things."

He stared at his hands and the air was tense until Cas spoke up.

"I would like to care for something, as a human," he said thoughtfully. "An animal. A cat, or a guinea pig."

"No beehives?" Dean said, grinning, then subsided when Cas shot a hurt look to him.

"I don't know how to nurture a beehive in Kansas, in January," he said, tucking his knees under himself, and Dean reached over, kissing his temple apologetically.

"I think we can manage a guinea pig," he announced, and Cas turned to him in surprise. "C'mon, we kept the King of Hell alive, hope we can handle a guinea pig."

Cas' face split into a smile, and he leaned in to press a kiss to Dean's mouth. Charlie made a gagging sound.

"OK, gross kids," she said, taking a shuddering drink of her beer. "Dean, you're left."

He pulled his knees under his chin, one hand still absently twisting in Cas' hair.

"Uh," he said. "Guess I wanna, you know. Appreciate what I got. You idiots." He dropped his head onto Cas' shoulder and turned his mouth to his ear. "You idiot."

Cas choked slightly, and Sam and Charlie groaned.

Sam flipped between channels until he landed on Times Square, and Dean popped a bottle of champagne. He poured it carefully into the four glasses and doled them out, then smacked Cas lightly when he took a sip.

"Wait 'til midnight, dude," he chided.

Cas frowned. "I don't understand --"

"S'just tradition," Dean said. "We toast, and we count down 'til midnight, and we..."

"If you guys start tongue-fucking I'm _outtie_ ," Charlie interrupted, then shuddered. "Jesus, if you make me make out with Sam just to get back at you…"

"Thanks for that," Sam said with a laugh. "But yeah, there _are_ other people in the room."

Dean extended a middle finger as the countdown began. When it hit ten seconds he pulled Cas close, until their foreheads were tilted together. In the corner of his eye, Charlie had yanked Sam into a hug, and as it ticked over into the new year, they exchanged loud, smacking kisses on the cheek.

"Happy New Year," Dean whispered. Sam and Charlie's laughter echoed through the room over the television, the firelight flickering over their faces. Cas lifted his hand to the back of Dean's neck, and the smile curved onto his lips tingled from champagne and tasted like home.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback always appreciated, loved, cherished, devoured, fed upon, preyed upon -- wait, what?
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [relucant](http://relucant.tumblr.com). I'm nice.


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